


Still Human

by CookieWaffle



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Disabled Character, Erik has like 50 cats, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, LET ERIK SAY FUCK, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, also this is Steampunk and not strictly set in the Victorian era so Erik can say fuck, theres a lot of content warnings in here so be careful my dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-20 12:32:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15534318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieWaffle/pseuds/CookieWaffle
Summary: He’s done a lot of bad things, killed a lot of people without question. It doesn’t matter, he’s just getting the job done. But even for someone as twisted as he, there are some lines that he just can’t cross.This takes place in my WIP steampunk adaptation where Erik is an assassin. This is mostly for character writing practice but still feel free to leave feedback!





	Still Human

“I need to eat.”

“No.”

“I need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat today.”

“I’ll just vomit again.”  
I had been having this argument in my head for... about half an hour. I really did need to eat soon, but my body has always had trouble keeping down food. Usually I’m pretty apathetic about it, but recently I had been losing far too much weight, which is especially dangerous when you’re 7’3” and already practically skin and bone. But where would I even get food at this hour? I didn’t currently have any at home, and really I didn’t have the energy to sneak around stealing from the opera house kitchen either. Honestly, I would have no problem just letting myself die if it weren’t for all my unfinished works, and the fact that I had several little mouths to feed back at home.  
I glanced over at the mangled corpse laying next to me. Then, I began to consider something vile.  
“No... Even I’m not that disgusting.” 

“Seriously? You’ve just ripped this man to pieces and now you’re hung up on cannibalism, as if that’s somehow worse?”

“Good point... But that still leaves the problem that this is raw; can’t just eat it here. Who knows what he’s been eating!”

“Then just take a cut and bring it home.”

I shrugged. Sure, why the fuck not? I really can’t get any lower as a person than I already am. I’m not even fully convinced that I’m human, which may actually be a good thing now that I think of it, because then it technically wouldn’t be cannibalism.  
I dug my claws into a leg and ripped it off. I swung it over my shoulder and crawled back into the sewer, whistling a tune as made my way home. Who gives a shit really? He’s dead, it’s not like he’s going to need the leg anymore.

When I arrive home I am immediately greeted by the eager chirps and purrs of several friends. “Hello, my lovelies,” I say in return.  
I am careful to watch my step as I make my way through the affectionate sea of felines rubbing up against my legs. This is usual, however something doesn’t feel right. I lazily toss the leg onto a table. I scan the area, counting every cat I saw. Someone was missing. The blood drained from my face.  
“Chaney?” I called out, attempting to hide the fear in my voice.  
He was so old. My first. I had found him abandoned in a bag under a bridge as a child. That was 15 years ago. I realize that he is far past his prime, but I couldn’t imagine life without my precious siamese.  
I was relieved beyond words when I heard the distinct meow. He sounded healthy, must have just gotten his legs locked up again. I followed his sounds and found him behind a chair. I was correct, his mechanical front legs were locked and preventing him from moving. The poor boy, how long had he been there? I picked him up with my good arm and sat down with him in a chair.  
“I’ll fix you up, just give me a minute.” 

I unscrewed my claws and noticed my wrist was a bit stiff. Great, looks like I was going to need a few repairs myself. I decided to work on Chaney first. Luckily, this time all I had to do was adjust the gears in his joints. Last time, I had to take his legs off and clean them out, and he gets so incredibly fussy when I try to secure them back on. However, I on the other hand, needed to take my own arm apart to inspect what the problem with my wrist was. The annoying part about complex machinery is that when there’s an issue, it could be coming from anywhere. There are so many interconnecting gears, it could be very difficult to for someone to spot which one is causing the problem if they don’t have a good eye for it, like I do.

Luckily, it turned out that my index finger just needed some oiling, although I was rather annoyed that I had to put the whole thing back together. After piecing everything back together, I finally focused my attention to that night’s... “meal”. It soon dawned on me that I hadn’t the slightest idea how to cook a whole human leg at once. I can’t imagine many actual normal people even know how to do that. It looked like I’d have to cut off a smaller piece and store the rest away for later. This... did not thrill me. I was hoping to just get this over with in one night, but it looked like I’d be having leftovers for dinner the next day. I kept trying to tell myself that I didn’t care, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that, even for me, this was a bit... nasty.

I took out a knife and sawed off a piece of the calf, threw it on the stove and then waited. I wasn’t particularly eager for the meal to finish cooking, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive. Once it was finished, I forced myself to eat it as fast as I could, not caring that it was still hot. I immediately felt the urge to throw up, even more so than usual, likely due to the fact that I still wasn’t particularly keen on eating human meat. But alas, I ate the whole chunk. I couldn’t tell what it tasted like; the heat it still had from cooking burned my tongue too much for me to tell. Shame, I was actually a bit curious about that. I looked at the rest of the leg and just stared at it for a minute or two. 

“Disgusting. It’s getting blood everywhere! I should have wrapped it up or something.”  
I usually don’t mind the sight of blood at all, but I prefer it not to be making a mess in my home. Now, my home is certainly no fancy ballroom. There are unfinished projects, paintings, and art supplies laying around everywhere. I also forget to dust... a lot. But it’s sanitary at the very least; aside from it smelling like cat hair, that is. I may not be afraid to get my hands dirty, but I prefer to not live in a place covered in other’s body fluids. I decided to not even bother with the rest of the leg. It didn’t feel like it was worth it anymore, so I just threw it out into the sewer; maybe the cats would want it.  
I felt unusually tired that night, likely due to being weak from starvation. I figured I should get some rest soon. Hopefully I would actually be able to stay asleep. My chronic nightmare disorder had been a real bitch lately. Sometimes I actually wish I wasn’t so fucked up in the head, if I’m going to be honest. I take off my boots, mask, and leg braces and shove them to the side before collapsing onto the bed, not even bothering to undress. 

Just as I suspected, I had another nightmare. This one didn’t really stand out at first. It started off as they usually do; people screaming at me, my mother screaming at me, screaming in my face. Painful, stinging lashing against my body. Feeling small and weak. He was there again. I could see him looming over me, fearing the inevitable pain, torment, violation... As usual, I try to run, but I don’t have my braces on. I keep stumbling to the ground, over and over, each fall breaking something else. Soon I can’t move at all, and all I can do is look up at him. He’s so much bigger than me, I couldn’t even hope to overpower him.

If I’m going to be honest, in hindsight this is actually a bit amusing. Back then, yes, I was much smaller. But how tall was he? Around 6’? While I’m now tall enough to be medically classified as a giant! Sometimes I like to imagine the look on that bastard’s face if he ever saw how I tower over him, just before digging my claws into his gut! Well, what he would have looked like, if he was still breathing that is; and I made damn well sure he wouldn’t be able to do that anymore 15 years ago. The dream continued to go on as usual, but then something very different happened.... 

I heard her voice…

I could never forget it’s sound. How could I? To this day, it is still the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. It was soft and gentle, yet it somehow managed to drown out the screams. I turned towards the sound, and saw a light in the darkness. Moonlight. But not the kind of moonlight I see on nights when I’m on the hunt. Not the kind the kind that reflects back at me when I look into the eyes of my victims. No, it was the beautiful, peaceful kind. The kind that inspires and comforts me. There were stars too, millions of them, scattered across the sky. The last time I’ve seen that many stars was when…

I hear her voice again. I tried crawling towards her, but she doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. She remains far from reach, but I can see her. I remember every last detail. Her smile, her wild curly brown hair that bounced around in every direction. Her eyes, such a unique shade of blue that I could swear they were actually violet. They shone even brighter against the contrast of her dark skin. 

Christine...  
Christine, the girl with the voice of an angel. The girl who was kind to even the monsters who hid under her bed. The girl with big dreams. The girl who was in way over her head. The girl who sang with me, the girl who was the only person ever to show me kindness. The girl who was the first and last person to ever speak my name, and who spoke it with love. My girl. My Christine... She was here, and I wanted so badly to run to her, but my legs couldn’t hold me up. I crawled and crawled, yet she remained too far to reach. I began to get frustrated, then angry. I wanted to break something, or someone. I screamed out of rage, sadness, loneliness.  
That, she heard. She turned to face me, but her reaction was horrified. Shit! It’s happening again! Every moment from that fateful night that took place 15 years ago replayed in my head in full detail. The terror in her eyes when she saw my face... It still haunts me to this day. The day that even the kindest soul on earth couldn’t stand to look at me. It wasn’t her fault, it was never her fault... I would have liked to blame him for what happened that night, but I know when it came down to it, it was me. I’m the one who looks like a demon from hell, and I just as well actually might be.

She screamed, and it caused the other screams to intensify. It was so painful, so unbearable. All the fear I felt that night rushed through my body like a tidal wave; and then, I woke up in a cold sweat, shaking uncontrollably. I could see my own blood dripping onto my sheets. Chaney woke up and ran to me, concerned for his master. I reach out my trembling hand, the one that could feel, and wasn’t made from steel. I begin to pet him, the stress slowly leaving my body with every gentle stroke.

Soon, some of the other family members came up to me, purring and rubbing against my body. Whiskers tickled my skin, and sweet meows filled the air. Lovely creatures; don’t know how I’d ever live without them. They calmed me down enough for me to regain my senses, but I was still shaken. What time was it? Was I asleep for a few hours, or a few minutes? Either way, I sure as hell wasn’t going back to sleep.  
I remembered I was bleeding. Might as well check out what that’s all about since I’m getting up anyways. I reach for my wheelchair, feeling too lazy at the moment to put on my braces. Using a bit of upper body strength, I pulled myself on to the chair and rolled over to my mirror. I don’t like looking in the mirror. I remember the first time I ever looked into one, I had nightmares for weeks. However, these days, I just feel disgusted at my own reflection. I usually only use it to apply makeup, and even then I almost always have my mask on. But in cases where I have to treat injuries, I have no choice but to look at myself for longer than I’m comfortable with.

I assess the damage. Looks like I bit my cheek in my sleep again. I guess that’s the downside of screwing metal fangs into your jaw. Good for aesthetic- and sometimes even defense- but they can easily cause injury. I’d never remove them though, they’re the only part of my physical appearance that I actually like. Maybe I just shouldn’t sharpen them so much next time. The injury was not severe, and it had stopped bleeding for the most part, so I decided to just leave it alone. I’d need to clean my bed sheets though. I groaned at the thought of it; I hate having to do chores.  
I knew I should probably go and see what time it is, but I was still a bit shaken up, so I stayed there for a few more minutes. Chaney jumped on to my lap, and I started scratching him behind the ears, just how he likes it. He closed his one good eye and purred happily. We’re two of a kind, he and I. I still remember the day I found him, abandoned under a bridge, as a child. We connected immediately. We were both alone, scared, disabled, wet and cold from the rain... I used my body heat to keep him warm. I don’t think he would have made it through that night without me; he was so tiny back then.  
Chaney stretched and yawned. He looked up at me and pawed at a stray strand of brown hair that was hanging over my face, which made me let out a chuckle. Then one of my other cats, Charles, a fat orange tabby, jumped up on to my lap as well. Chaney hissed at him, which made him flinch.

“Hey! Be nice!” I scolded.

Chaney usually tolerates the other cats, but he has a habit of getting jealous sometimes. He even used to get into fights from time to time, but now he’s too old to bother with the trouble. Luckily though, his aggression towards other cats that he held from time to time never got as bad as it does with humans. He really hates people. He’s even been known to attack people before. That I don’t mind so much, though. I’ve never liked people myself. I’m the only one that cat actually trusts, maybe because I’m quite possibly not even a human to begin with.  
Sometimes I think he sees me as another cat; maybe his brother, even. Hell, maybe I was a cat in a past life. Although I don’t know what horrible atrocity a cat could possibly commit to earn being reborn as... whatever the hell I am. I don’t even think cats have the cognitive ability to truly commit sin, even though they are certainly smarter than humans give them credit for. Maybe I was cursed, or used in some kind of demonic sacrificial ritual? Either way, I imagine that I must have enjoyed my cat life much more. If I really am a cat trapped in a disfigured humanoid body, I sure hope this isn’t my 9th life. Even if I have just one life left after this, I’d much rather be a cat again. Either a big, lone predator like a panther, or an alleycat, always living on the verge of danger. Life full of freedom and thrill. I just don’t want to be someone’s pet. The last thing I want is to be in captivity again.  
I finally decided to get off my ass and make my way up to the Opera House. I was still wearing my blood-soaked red cloak from last night; it’s my “work uniform”, so I don’t really need to clean it. I just tossed it to the side. I buckle up my boots and leg braces and put on my casual mask.  
Chaney hops onto my shoulder for a free ride, as usual. My second oldest cat, an 11 year old calico named Mary, decided to tag along as well. We made our way through dark hallways as I sang a random tune, making it up in my head as I went along. I arrived at one of the pulley systems I had built to help me get to the top. I used to be able to climb my way up there if I was careful enough, but as soon as I hit puberty I quickly shot up in height, and my already weak legs became too lanky and awkward to be able to climb very well. So, I decided building a contraption to aid me was a better option than risking falling and breaking something every time I wanted to go up.  
As I pulled myself up, I could hear the sound of the opera house orchestra rehearsing getting closer. Okay, so it must not be too early in the morning if so many people are awake already. Maybe I actually managed to get more sleep than usual that night. Was it Christine I wonder? Would I have woken up in the middle of the night again, had she not soothed my nightmare for that seemingly short period of time? Heh, even in my dreams she’s looking out for me, it seems. Well... until she sees what I really am, of course.  
I wonder what she looks like now... I think she may have been slightly younger than me, but not by many years. I think I’m currently in my mid-twenties, so perhaps she’s in her early-twenties now? She must be married by now. Her voice and natural beauty have no doubt improved with age; men likely beg at her feet for her hand. I really hope it hasn’t gotten to her head, though. She was so sweet, so gentle. She should stay that way.  
Does she remember me, I wonder... Does she even want to?  
I was so distracted by my thoughts that I didn’t slow down when I reached the top, and I hit my head on the ceiling.  
“Goddamn son of a bitch...” I cursed as I winced from the pain.  
I should really try to get Christine out of my head. It’s only going to make me upset, anyways. It’s not like we would ever see each other again, or that she would even want to see me after what happened that night, even after a decade and a half.

The music could be heard much more clearly now. I’m hearing a few out of tune instruments; yikes. The show opens tonight, they could at least have gotten their shit together the day before.  
“I swear, if they fuck this one up like they did with Faust, I’m pouring cooking grease down the toilets again,” I say to my feline companions. 

Mary mews in agreement; Chaney is wrapped around my neck, half asleep. They really needed to hire some new musicians up there. Maybe the “opera ghost” could scare a few of them off. I chuckled at the thought of a bunch of grown adults getting so scared by some stupid prank I set up, that they just bolt out the door. It never fails to be goddamn hilarious! Once I even almost gave myself away laughing so hard at those idiots! 

I hear an out of tune violin shriek. UGH! You know, sometimes I’m actually a bit glad I can’t share my own music with the world. I dread to think of my life’s work being played by morons like this who don’t even know how to properly tune their instruments!  
Come to think of it, they probably wouldn’t even want to play it. My music contains too much of my dazzling personality. It’s angry, it’s vulgar, it’s mean, it’s chaotic, it’s over-emotional, and- at times- very loud. It’s a bit too much for people who prefer things to be in order, neat and categorized. Although I have no real problem with there being separate genres of music, I don’t like to limit it to just one, and my music doesn’t either. I want to experience every kind of music there is. I’m trapped in this city. I can’t travel the world like the humans can, and I never will be able to. So music is how I explore. It’s one of the ultimate art forms. Every culture on earth has it, no matter how remote, and it’s used for everything from religion to simple entertainment. I even try to make up my own genres, although I can never share them with anyone aside from my cats.

I reached the opera house level. There’s a maze of corridors, trap doors, and one-way mirrors everywhere. It would be nightmare to navigate for most, but for me? It’s like a playground. I made several of the trapdoors and mirrors myself, but some have been here since before I even first stepped foot in the building, when I was just a kid. My guess is that they were installed when the opera house was first built, although I haven’t the slightest clue as to why.  
Since people were up and rehearsing, it was most likely just before noon. I had to leave to meet with my client for my next job soon, but I still had time for some people-watching.  
I made my way up to the ceiling of the theater room where everyone was rehearsing. All the usuals where there. I don’t care for most of them, except for maybe Madame Giry. I like her style. Despite looking like an old feeble woman, she intimidates the piss out of the managers, and it’s always a joy to watch. Her daughter, Meg, I’m more indifferent too. She’s not aggravating, but she can be loud when she drinks. With the exception of her mother, many of the other staff say things about her behind her back about her being too “unladylike”.  
I honestly don’t see what the big deal is though. Human’s cultural obsession with gender norms is ridiculous, and really serves no practical purpose when it comes down to it. We all die and end up in the dirt someday, why give so much of a shit about such pointless societal rules? Though her mother doesn’t seem to care about her unorthodox quirks. Lucky her, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly envious. My mother couldn’t even stand to look at me, let alone tolerate any of my “quirks”.  
Everyone else is an annoying jackass, but as a result most of them are very fun to pull my immature pranks on. There the new managers, André and Firmin, who don’t take the so-called “rumors” of the opera ghost seriously yet; but I’m not worried about them. All it will take is a scare or two, and pretty soon they’ll realize that although they may legally own the building, I own their asses. Then there’s Carlotta, who has the most ear-grating singing voice I’ve ever heard in my life. Her husband Piangi, who’s kind of an idiot. Joseph, who’s absolutely a fucking idiot. And then there’s Raoul.  
I don’t like Raoul. I’m not sure why really, there’s just something about that kid that always pisses me off. Could be his stupid round glasses, total cluelessness, his tendency to not look where he’s going and trip over stage props. Usually I’d find these things amusing when any of the others do it, but this guy.... ugh, it’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. It almost feels like something in the back of my mind is trying to tell me he’s a threat, when really he seems completely harmless. Not very bright, and I could absolutely kick his ass all the way to the sun if I wanted to. He’s such a wimp! Still, though... he gets under my skin.  
I hear a familiar masculine voice coming from a conversation down below.

Oh no, not this guy.

The Daroga. He’s not a part of the usual bunch of idiots I watch and mess with for cheap entertainment, but he has been showing up around here recently more and more often. I don’t like him either, but not for the same reason I dislike Raoul. Unlike Raoul, this guy is smart. Too smart. He’s here to investigate what locals have been referring to as the “Red Death murders” that have been going on around the city. I have no idea how he did it, but he was somehow able to connect the killings back to here, despite the great lengths I go through to cover my tracks. I’d get rid of him myself, but I don’t want to draw more suspicion to this location. This opera house is supposed to be my sanctuary, it makes me feel invincible and in control. Nothing is supposed to touch me here, so I really don’t appreciate law enforcement getting so close. However, all I can do for now is lay low and be extra cautious until he gives up. Maybe even take less jobs for a while.

I see him glance up towards me, as if he sensed I was there. 

“Shit!” I quickly duck back into the darkness.  
The cats and I bolted in different directions. It was about time I should leave to meet my client, anyways. I never did like him, he talks to me as if he’s the smarter one. Really pisses me off, but he pays well. I’ve also noticed that the targets he assigns to me seem to be a little... racially biased? He’s only ever sent me after people of African decent. I don’t get paid to judge though, I just do the dirty work. Though it is ironic really, because I myself am quite dark skinned. Despite the fact that the sun rarely ever touches my skin, my romani lineage keeps me from turning pale. I wonder what my client’s reaction would have been if he ever found out... He never knew, I always keep every part of my body hidden whenever I speak with outsiders.  
Dawned in a black cloak and mask, I make my way to the rendezvous spot. It’s in a dark back alley. I told him that it was way too obvious of a spot, but he insisted that we meet there, and I begrudgingly complied.  
“You’re an hour late!” He snapped as soon as he saw me.  
I snap back, “You want this job done or not, shitstick?”  
“I don’t like your attitude.” He tried to intimidate me. Hilarious.  
I leered over him and spoke in a comically sinister tone. “And I don’t like yours, either.”  
I could see a clear glint of fear in his eyes, and he backed away a few inches. A mischievous smile appeared underneath my mask. Seeing that little worm squirm brought me great amusement. For a moment I considered messing with him a bit more, but I decided it better to just get this assignment over with. It was the last one I had from this jerkoff, thank God.  
My client nervously composed himself and cleared out his throat. “This is the file you shall be using for reference.” He handed the target’s file over to me. “I don’t care how you do it, just make sure it hurts.”  
“That I can do.” I say, in an intentionally menacing tone.  
I see the glint of fear return to his eyes. I hold back a chuckle; what a jackass!  
We both went our separate ways soon after. Before heading back, I relocate to a much less obvious hiding place and opened the file.  
Looks like this one was going to be blackmail, but it didn’t say for what reason. It was aimed at a man of African decent; not surprised. He was not the target though, the actual target was his daughter. I’m guessing my client is trying to scare this guy into submission by threatening to kill his family members, this one being an example. That’s some fucked up shit. He may be a pathetic little worm, but he’s got some pretty nasty schemes, I’ll give him that.  
I read the instructions. I was to dismember the body, and leave it at the blackmail target’s doorstep; the instructions included his address. Okay, doesn’t seem like too much of a challenge. The timeframe for the assassination was tomorrow, between 2:12 PM to 2:39 PM, while the target is walking her way back from school. My client wanted to meet me at the usual spot as soon as possible after the job is done. Aw, son of a bitch! I hate when I have to do this shit in the daytime-  
Wait...  
I paused. Did I read that part right? Walking her way back from school? I reread the instructions. Yea, that’s exactly what they said. Then, I glanced over at the target’s description. 

Gender: Female  
Complexion: Dark  
Hair: Black, curled  
Eyes: Hazel  
Age: 8

Oh.... Oh son of a BITCH. Now I’m no saint, but even I don’t have the balls to pull that kind of shit on someone I don’t like! Goddamn, an eight year old? Are you fucking kidding me?! I considered that I may actually have to turn this job down. There was a dangerous amount of risk here. Up until now, almost all of my other targets have been scumbags. Drug dealers, gangsters, thieves, even another assassin, once. Although the authorities certainly take note of their deaths, the public doesn’t exactly give that much of a shit. Nobody cares about the kind of people I usually kill. They were criminals themselves. But if I start killing kids? Law enforcement isn’t gonna rest until they’ve got my ass mounted on a wall! 

But then, I catch a glance at the reward money.

1 million goddamn franks.

This motherfucker is going to pay me 1 million for something that easy to kill? What the hell would I even do with that kind of money? I began to think on it more. Maybe.... Maybe law enforcement won’t actually react that much... She is dark-skinned after all, and I know they’ve got a habit for not bothering too much with murder cases involving her race, even when it’s children. Still though, if I’m going to do this I should be extremely careful, and I need to make it look like it wasn’t me. That means I can’t use any of my signatures. No Red Death costume, no toying with the target. Just get the job over with.  
It would be so easy, too... A kid that young likely wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight, especially not against me. All it would take is one swipe across the throat with my claws, and it would be over. I may skip out on the dismemberment part though. My client certainly won’t like it, but it could draw too much public attention. He’ll probably want to deduct my pay, but I could easily scare him into giving me all the money.  
I decided then. I was going to do it. It would be the lowest, most despicable thing I’ve done so far, but you know what? I ate a guy’s fucking leg the other night! Could I really be much more of a piece of shit than I already am? The only way I could get any scummier is if I were a rapist or a pedophile. I’m not, in fact I’m not sure I can even feel sexual attraction to begin with, but would it really even matter at this point if I was?  
I’m not human. I’m a demon. Everything about my existence is unholy. Even my conception was a sin against nature! I don’t know how, when, or why it happened, and I sure as fuck don’t want to know, but I’ve always suspected that my parents may have been.... related... and I highly doubt the act was consensual on both ends. I’m the result of a disgusting, twisted act, and for some ungodly reason, I survived past infancy.  
I’m pretty sure I can recall the midwife who delivered me screaming as soon as I emerged into the world. I’m not meant to care about what’s right and wrong, I’m not meant to be merciful. I’m meant to be feared, I’m meant to be heartless. Even the kindest creature on earth cowered away from me in fear as soon as she saw my face. I’m disgusting, I’m evil, I’m a murderer. So fucking what if I kill one child, or even a hundred children? I’m still the same scum of the earth as I’ve always been.  
When I got back to the opera house, it was already late in the night. I don’t know why, but something just made me want to wander around the catacombs for hours on end before heading back. I can’t even remember what I was thinking, my mind was in some kind of dissociative state. I know that happens sometimes when I’m extremely stressed out, but what was there to stress about? My target? I’ve already been through this with myself, it doesn’t matter who I kill, young or old. Maybe I was just feeling anxiety over the risk the job came with.  
Yea.... Yea, that was it...  
I can hear the orchestra warming up. It’s opening night! Oh thank fucking Christ, I needed something to calm my nerves, and the opera was perfect. I quickly made my way to my seat in box 5. It’s the perfect blind spot. No one on stage or in the audience can see me. I was pleased to see that the new managers didn’t sell the seat this time. Not many things piss me off more than someone sitting in my seat. Maybe they actually took my threats seriously this time, or perhaps some of the more superstitious staff members convinced them to leave it empty. Either way, I was glad. I think if I saw anyone in that seat again tonight, I would have broken my rule about no killing in the opera house. Then that Daroga would know for sure it was me who’s been leaving corpses all over the city. Then I’d have to kill him, and then more investigators would probably show up, and it would be a whole freakin’ mess. Goddamn I needed a smoke.

The show started; I leaned back and tried to enjoy myself, but there was this knot in my gut and it made me feel sick, but I tried to ignore it. Probably just another symptom of my God-knows-how-many health problems I have. I’ve honestly lost count at this point.  
It was only about 3 minutes into the opening act when I heard the faint screech of an out-of-tune violin. It was so faint that I doubt anyone else heard it, but my sensitive ears picked it up nonetheless, and it didn’t do anything to help my stress levels. About a minute or so later, I hear it again.

“Okay, that settles it.” I say to myself. “I’m definitely breaking something expensive in here.”  
I pondered what I should do this time. I know before I said I’d wreck the plumbing, but I’ve already done that twice. I should change things up. I look up at the giant chandelier hanging in the middle of the theater.  
“Nah...” I decided against it. “That’s a little too expensive. Plus, it’s a huge fire hazard, I better not. Maybe I’ll just mess with the heating this time.”  
Another screech, this one a little bit louder. Now I was getting angry. Then, a few minutes later, another, and then another. Louder, louder. It was grating my ears now, almost painful, even. As they kept getting louder... the violins... they sounded more like screams. Scream after scream, I’d feel more and more sick to my stomach. I didn’t need a smoke, I needed a few beers.  
Screaming, screaming, high-pitched, agonizing, but no one in the audience seemed to care. Didn’t they hear it? That awful screaming! It sounded like it was coming from a chi-  
Fuck beer, I needed to shoot up on something! Shit, shit, shit, I’m going to vomit!  
I left so I didn’t have to hear it anymore, but the screams still rang in my ears. They grew louder, louder still. They start to sound more and more human. The pain is agonizing! It feels like someone is digging needles into my eardrums! I start to run away from it, but they keep getting louder and louder, I could feel it coming, there was no going back. My anger was about to turn into a blinding rage, and it was too late to stop it.  
I made it all the way back home and made one last attempt to calm myself down, but it was far too late. The cats, sensing the oncoming storm, scurry under furniture, into cracks and holes in the walls, or any other hiding place they could find.  
One last long, agonizing scream, and that was it. I fucking lost it. Breaking, shouting, throwing, punching, even biting. It was a bad one. I had no control over my body, it was like the devil himself had possessed me.  
“COWARD, COWARD, YOU’RE A FUCKING COWARD!”  
“YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE, WHY THE FUCK DO YOU CARE?”  
“YOU’RE A KILLER, YOU’RE A KILLER, I’M A FUCKING KILLER, I’M A MONSTER!”

I had no control over my words, either. They just poured out of my subconscious, and I was at the mercy of my own self-loathing. 

“I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU’RE SO WEAK, WEAK, COWARD, MONSTER, DEMON, DISGUSTING! WHY DO YOU CARE YOU SON OF A BITCH, WHAT’S SO DIFFERENT ABOUT THIS ONE?”

I could feel hot tears pouring down from my one eye, on the left side of my face. They burned my skin as if it were acid.

“JUST KILL HER, WHY CAN’T YOU FUCKING KILL ONE GODDAMN KID? WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE? COWARD, WEAK, PATHETIC!”

I have no idea how long I was just pacing around the place, destroying shit and yelling insults at myself, but one thing I was sure of was that any sewer rat within at least a five mile radius probably heard me. Hell, maybe a few people all the way up on the surface could hear me. My voice may just be powerful enough to reach that far, and damn, was I screaming loud.  
Eventually I went from damaging objects in my house to damaging myself, as is what typically happens when I’m having one of these lovely little temper tantrums. Still screaming obscenities, I start to bash my head against the wall as hard as I can, trying to beat myself into submission. I guess it worked, because I’m pretty sure I knocked myself out cold.  
I did dream, but it wasn’t like the other ones I’ve had. This was... a memory. Every detail, exactly as it was.

It was dark and cold, but I was used to that. My bruised body ached, but I didn’t shed a tear; it wasn’t the worst I’ve had it. There was nowhere I could go. Not much to look at. My eyes were well-adjusted to the dark; enough for me to see the silhouettes of the metal bars in front of me, and there was a little bit of light I could see through the cracks in the wooden walls, but aside from that? Not much. It’s so claustrophobic. I wish I could move, but even if I could go anywhere, my legs were weak, and I wouldn’t be able to make it very far on my own.  
When was the last time I saw the sky? Or felt grass? Even before I ended up... here... I rarely got to experience those things. I wish I could play again. It’s been so long, did I even know how to anymore? I never had much to entertain myself with, but at least before I could draw, and play instruments. But here... there is nothing. Just metal bars. I feel like they stare at me sometimes. They’re doing it right now, even. It frustrates me. Stop it! Leave me alone! I just want to go home! But I knew I never could. Even if I could leave this place, I could never return there. I caused mother so much pain; maybe I deserve to rot in here.  
They’re still staring. Stop it! Don’t look at me! The fuse is getting shorter. I wish I could shout, but I dare not make any loud noises. The last thing I want is him coming in here to shut me up. But it’s so hard! There’s nothing! Just bars! And staring! The lack of stimulation, the staring, I can’t take it anymore! It’s about to drive me over the edge again. I need to find a way to calm down before I explode into madness. There is one thing I can do, but it’s risky because it involves making noise. Maybe if I’m quiet, though....  
I close my eyes, trying to pretend that the bars don’t exist. It starts out as a soft hum, and then turns into a song. Quiet, calm, no words. It’s just a tune in my head, but I savour every last moment of it while I can. My voice is the only thing I have, it is my greatest possession. When I sing, it sometimes almost makes me feel like I’m worth something.  
I calm down, and my singing gets a little bit louder. I am completely lost in song. There’s no more bars, no one is staring, but... for once, I am not alone. There’s music coming from somewhere else, singing with me. It’s beautiful, I can’t even remember the last time I felt so much peace, and dare I say, maybe even happiness? Then, the practical part of my brain kicked in. Where is that other voice coming from? 

There’s someone else in the room.

I become dead silent. Frozen in terror. Someone was there! I could see their silhouette in front of me. I don’t move a muscle, I even try to keep my breathing to a minimum.  
“Oh, please go on! Your voice is lovely!”

I don’t reply. I don’t even know what to think. Were they talking to me? It sounded like another child... 

“I’m sorry... did I frighten you?” 

I remain silent.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep singing while I do my chores, but you can join in if you’d like!”

The voice begins to sing again, and I’m having trouble processing what’s going on. Were they talking to me? They must have been! Aside from them, I’m the only person here! But nobody.... nobody speaks to me in such a soft, friendly tone. At first, I don’t believe it. My mind must have been playing tricks on me, but I could still hear the singing. Sweet, soothing, heartfelt. I could listen to it forever. The song is almost hypnotizing, and without even thinking, I join in. I don’t know how long we sang, but I wish it could have lasted forever. 

“I need to go, before I get in trouble for taking too long.”

Please... don’t leave...

“We can sing again tomorrow!”

...and as soon as she appeared, she left, and I was alone again. The absence of that sweet cheerful voice made me uncomfortable. But then, the door suddenly bursts open and I nearly jump out of my skin. 

No, no, no, he heard me!

My anxieties were soon put to rest when I heard that lovely sound again.

“I almost forgot! My name is Christine! What’s your name?”

My name? I hadn’t the slightest clue. Did I even have one to begin with? No one ever called me by a name, and I’ve never referred to myself with one, either. 

Something, I don’t know what, possessed me to speak.  
“I... don’t have one....”  
“AH HA! SO YOU DO SPEAK!” Christine shouted, a little too enthusiastically.

It made me jerk back in fear. I was almost tempted to tell her to shut it; what if he heard? 

“Wait, you don’t have a name?” I heard pity in the tone of her voice. “You can’t not have a name! We’ll just have to come up with one for you, then!” She ran back to the door and opened it, but paused for a moment before leaving.

“I’ll come up with some good ones and I’ll tell you them tomorrow!” 

I almost didn’t hear what she was saying; I was too distracted. The sunlight coming from the doorway was shining down on her, and for the first time in my life, I saw someone smile at me. A sincere, sweet, kind smile. A feeling rose within me, something I didn’t recognize. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and my heartbeat increased dramatically. Was I sick or something? No... I didn’t feel sick...  
Then, all too soon, the door closed behind her and the light was gone. 

What did she name me? I hadn’t heard my name spoken in so long....

Erik. 

That’s right. My name is Erik, and it has been ever since.

My eyes slowly begin to open, and it doesn’t take long to notice that my head felt like someone dropped an anvil on it. How long was I out for? I looked around; the place looks like a complete wreck. Well, even more than it did before, anyways. I think I may have given myself a concussion. It didn’t phase me though. I just felt completely empty inside.  
As if my mind was on autopilot, I got up and prepared for my last assignment. I had no idea what time it was, but I didn’t think about it. I looked at the assignment file again, and took note of the location where I’m likely to find the target. It was pouring rain. I don’t remember anything about the walk there, my mind was so blank.  
I found the school, and I decided it would be best that I tried to do this as far away from it as I could; but not too close to her house. I found the midway point between the two places, and there was an alleyway right there. It was such an obvious spot, but I felt too apathetic to find any place better. I waited in that alley like a predator, waiting for it’s prey to come just close enough. I didn’t notice how long I was there; I just stood there in the rain, thinking of nothing but the task at hand.  
I eventually see my target appear in my line of sight, skipping by, blissfully unaware of her fate.

I just want to get this over with.

In a flash I yank her right off the sidewalk; she felt like she weighed almost nothing. I threw her to the back of the alleyway.

I’m a killer, I don’t care.

I unsheathed my claws and prepared to make the fatal swipe. But something stops me… I thought the file said her eyes were hazel. They weren’t, they were... violet? No, no one can have violet eyes, unless they were actually blue like Chri-  
I felt sick to my stomach again.

Do it. Just fucking do it.

Her eyes were wide with terror. She was so paralyzed with fear that she couldn’t even scream. I suddenly became aware of just how small she was. I towered over her, no doubt adding to her fear. 

Just do it you goddamn coward!

She was drenched in rain, making her appear even more helpless. Violet eyes, staring at me in terror, I’ve seen those same eyes before...

DO IT.

I force myself to focus, trying my best to ignore the ever increasing sickening feeling within me. I was actually going to do it. I really was that evil.  
My claws swiped by so fast that I couldn’t see them. I cut her, and her body fell to the ground, but she was still alive. The cut was barely more than a scratch on her cheek; I had missed. Something had distracted me. I caught a quick glimpse of my reflection in a large puddle. That wasn’t my reflection.

It was his.

So disgusting, so despicable, that I’d be willing to harm a defenseless little child just to get some quick cash.  
Her eyes aren’t violet when I look at them now, but they still aren’t hazel either. They’re amber. They pierced right through my soul like two sharp daggers. They stood out so bright against the contrast of her dark skin and hair. 

Amber... Amber is my eye color...

I don’t see the same kid in front of me anymore. Her hair is matted and unclean, her cheeks are hollow, as if she’s been starving. Every inch of visible skin is covered in bruises and scars. The look of terror in her eyes never left, but there’s something else there now. Hopelessness. She knows there’s no escape from the oncoming pain, and no matter how much she wants to run, she know she can’t escape the tormentor that looms over her. It’s dark, there’s nothing. Just me and her, and metal bars...

Right then, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Guilt…

I’m a coward.

I back away.

“Go.”

She looks at me in both terror and confusion. Her eyes, they really are hazel now. 

“GO BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND, KID!”

Without a moment of hesitation, she bolted out of there. 

I didn’t regret my decision. All the insults I yelled at myself in my head just stopped. Now I was just... I don’t know... I had no idea what I was feeling.  
One thing I did know; I wasn’t getting paid. I didn’t care about that though. If anything, thinking about looking at that little worm’s face again just made me angry. He just may be even more of piece of shit than I am! He was fully willing to kill a weak defenseless little child, over what? I know it was to blackmail her father, but I can’t help but think it mostly had to do with race.  
Christine was black… he would wanted her dead. Just looking at her face would fill him with hatred. Such purity and kindness, hated simply for how dark she was. He would have made me kill her if he knew her. I might have done it too, without a second thought. I could feel my entire body getting hot. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. The anger quickly started to turn to rage.

He would have made me kill her! He would want her dead! If they ever met he could hurt her! I needed to do something quick! Without even thinking, I make my way to our meeting spot. He’s already there waiting for me. One moment I see him turn to look at me, the next my claws are sinking deep into his gut.

She’s safe from him now.  
I don’t search his corpse for the money, or even try to hide the body, and I certainly didn’t sever off his leg. I just went home, my mind gone blank again. It was when I was halfway down a corridor behind the walls of the opera house when I finally realized how exhausted I was.  
Emotionally drained, starving, I needed to stop. So I did, and just lay there on the cold damp ground. What the hell was I? What kind of creature like me can’t even do something as easy as kill a child? Or perhaps, maybe I really am still human. Or maybe... I’m a demon who strives to be one. 

I’m so tired. Tired of everything. As I lay on my back, I look up at the ceiling. It’s so dark. There is nothing. Nothing at all. Then a sudden wave of emotion comes over me. It’s an all-too-familiar feeling.

Loneliness…

It’s been so long since I’ve felt lonely. Over the years I’ve learned to thrive in the isolation. I’m free, no one can control me. When I was a young child though... It hurt. It hurt so badly. Just like it hurt right then. There was no living thing around me. None of my cats, no rats scurrying by, and certainly no people. I was totally and completely alone. There was no one. I have no one. 

I felt like my mind was speaking against it’s will. “It’s not fair...”

I thought I had come to terms with my fate years ago. I knew I would die alone. I’m untouchable, unloveable. I’ve accepted that fully; or maybe not... I suppose, deep down, I still wonder what it’s like to be normal. No scars, average height, half of my face doesn’t look like Satan’s nutsack. Healthy body, healthy mind. Socializing with the other humans like myself. Perhaps even getting married one day. Having someone who loves me, even if it’s just one person. I knew damn well it was impossible, and I had completely abandoned any hope of it ever happening. But I will admit, there was once a time in my youth when I was a hopeless romantic.

One time I fell in love, and actually convinced myself that there was a chance. That there was a better way to live, a reason to exist. But I was so young, not even a teenager yet. Was what I felt even real love? Or did I just trick myself into thinking that? Did love even actually exist? Either way, when it happened, it was the happiest I’ve ever felt, or have felt since.

I close my eyes, but feel no relief from the exhaustion. I feel like I’m in that damn cage again. Shivering, cold, starving, bleeding, body aching all over. The worst part was done with, but I can still feel the searing pain he left me with. I hoped, prayed, that she was able to get out in time. I didn’t want her to see the things he does to me. He almost caught her too, but thankfully he was still unaware of her visits. 

A frightened voice softly called out to me. “Erik?”

No. No, no, no! She was here! She was here the whole time! I couldn’t help but feel intense guilt, like it was entirely my fault.

Tears stung my right eye. I knew it was badly infected, I could barely see out of it anymore, it was so blurry and swollen. It only added to the pain. I felt something touch my head, I flinched, but there was no pain this time. It was a soft touch, the first one I had ever felt. It was her, she had stuck her arm through the bars and pet my hair, as if I were a wounded animal. I suppose, in a way, I was. I could hear the soft sounds of her sobbing, making the feeling of guilt in my chest increase all the more.

Then she began to sing to me. My breathing became less heavy, and the pain less intense. Her effect on me was almost like witchcraft. I feel her hand brush my left cheek, the part that still looked somewhat human. No one had ever touched my face without causing pain. 

Then, something struck me. I remembered what she told me a few days ago. She’s leaving. Today was her last day, and tomorrow morning she’d be gone. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. I just couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bare to be alone here anymore. She was the one thing keeping me from losing my last shred of sanity. 

“Erik...”

I couldn’t reply. 

“I’m not going to leave you here.”

The world seemed to come to a standstill when I heard those words leave her mouth. 

“I’m going to take you away from here. You’re going to come with me to my new home, and you’ll never be cold or hungry again.”

I slowly sat up. We couldn’t see each other’s faces in the dark, but I sensed how close we were between the gaps of the bars. 

“I’ll always protect you Erik.” Her voice is shaking, holding back tears. “No one will ever hurt you again!”

I leaned in closer between the gaps; this is the closest I ever been to her. I don’t say anything, I just want to be closer.

“I’ll be back tonight, I’ll get you of here!”

Then, I felt something soft and warm press up against my cheek. All the pain, both physical and emotional, evaporated from my body.

Did... Did she just kiss me?

Something snapped in my brain. All the years of anguish, frustration, pain, anger, loneliness... they were just gone. Everything that hurt was replaced with new emotions, things I had never felt before. Hope, acceptance, joy...

Love...

The blood shot up to my cheeks in a flash, my heart beating a million miles per hour. I’m in love! I can feel love! I am loved! I’m worthy of it, I’m complete, my whole life is laid out right in front of me, and I can do anything!

Crazy, foolish, childish ideas rushed through my head. “I’m going to be a musician and learn how to play every instrument in the world! I’m going to write operas, and Christine will be the starring role in all of them, and maybe I’ll even be in them too! We’ll travel the world, we’ll invent things, we’ll learn magic tricks!” 

The immense excitement and joy I was feeling was almost overwhelming. If my legs allowed it, I would have been bouncing off the walls! I had so much energy, I wanted to run, shout, play. For the first time since I was just barely out of my infancy, I felt like my own age. I was a child. 

Even in the darkness I could tell I was blushing like mad.  
“I’m going to marry her.”  
She sang to me again. The same song, but... it’s different. For sure it’s still her voice, but something’s changed. Somehow, it sounds even more beautiful than I remembered. No, divine is a better word for it! It was still untrained, but it was stronger, more soulful, more matured. I was completely entranced. Everything was perfect. No one on earth had ever been so happy. 

Another sound arose, but not from Christine. However, it wasn’t an alarming sound either. The unmistakable yowl of a cat. Then I felt something tickle my face. My eyes open and I see one blue eye staring back at me.  
“Chaney you old bastard, I was having a nice nap!” I say without meaning it. Really, I was glad to see him.  
I sat up; I didn’t feel like going back home yet though. I wanted to stay and listen to the song for a while longer.  
Wait... how was I still hearing her voice? 

I quickly dismissed it as just another illusion brought on by madness. It sounded so real, though. It even echoed through the halls, as if it were coming from inside the building. But then again, the screaming violins also felt real, and so did whatever the flying shit was going on in that alleyway earlier that day. If I didn’t know any better, though, I would have been running down that corridor, desperately looking for her. She wasn’t there though. The chances of me ever seeing her again, slim to none.

But then I glance over at Chaney, his ears fully perked up, looking down the corridor, focusing intensely... He could hear something. I can’t hear what’s caught his attention though, I can only hear Christine. Then the realization hits me a full force. My heart nearly stopped. 

No... It can’t be, it simply can’t be! 

My head turns toward the direction of the music, the same direction Chaney is so focused on. Without even thinking, I stand up and start walking towards it. 

It... It has to be real. It sounds too real!

Her voice grows more and more clear the closer I get. My heart feels like it’s beating at the speed of light. I pick up my pace, praying to whatever god that may exist that this wasn’t just a cruel trick my mind was playing on me. 

It’s so close now! Where is it, where are you? 

I remember that there’s a one-way mirror quite close to my current position. Without a second thought, I started running faster than my braces could handle, and I tripped over myself like a fool. It didn’t phase me in the slightest, though, and almost as soon as I fell down, I got back up and kept on running. When I finally came up past the mirror I slid to a stop, nearly causing myself to fall again. I was completely out of breath, and I was sweating. I had to have cleared a quarter of a mile, at least. I don’t think I’ve ever run that fast without something more specialized than leg braces aiding me in my life.

I don’t even take a moment to catch my breath, I run up to the mirror and have to keep myself from bursting right through the glass.

I could hear her voice so clearly that she might as well have been standing right in front of me, but I didn’t see her at first. If I was in a worse state of mind at the time, I would have just opened the sliding glass or called out to her, surely exposing myself. Luckily, I had just enough self control not to do so.

My eye frantically scanned what was visible in the room from my side of the mirror. It was the staff bedroom, where the janitors stayed. I could hear the soft sound of a broom sweeping against the wood floor coming from the left side of the room, just out of my field of vision. 

Please be her! Please be her! Just let me have this one thing!

It was probably only minute or two, but it felt like an eternity before the person sweeping finally came into view, and what I see before me nearly made my heart stop.

By God, I almost didn’t recognize her…

Who I saw was not the young girl I met in my youth, but rather a young woman. Yet she had the same hair, same nose, same skin tone, same eyes... violet... But most telling of all, she had the same voice, except, just like the rest of her, it was more matured.

My entire body starts to tremble, I couldn’t believe it! Was this some kind of cruel trick?  
The sound of her voice was so heavenly, so divine, and she’s not even properly trained! My heart was beating so fast that it almost hurt. If I didn’t know better I would have thought it would burst out of my chest at any moment!

Then she looked at me... Violet eyes... right into my fucking soul.

No... she can’t see me, she’s just checking her hair in the mirror. She fluffs it up playfully, and it feels like every fiber of my soul is screaming her name.

She finishes fixing her hair, and when she does she smiles. She’s smiling at me... That same exact smile... I don’t know how I kept myself from collapsing on to the floor right then and there. Perhaps my body was so frozen that it actually prevented me from falling. She was so close to me, only separated a few inches by the glass between us.  
Something about seeing her as an adult now... it resurrected all the feelings I once had. No... No. It did so, so much more than that. It increased them to the point where I could barely take it! It even brought on new ones! I nearly forgot that I, too, have grown, and my capacity for extreme emotion with it.

I want to hold you... 

Her lips were fuller now, more soft looking. I want to feel them against mine. I want to feel her hands run through my hair, I want to embrace everything that she is. I need her back in my life, now even more than I did back then. I’m in love, I’m so fucking in love with her! I’m in love! I’m in love!

As if it had a mind of it’s own, my hand reached out and touched the glass. I was so close, so close to sliding it open. We would have been face-to-face for the first time in 15 years. I was so fucking close.

But then, I saw my hand in front of me... My fingers are covered in cuts, both old and new. Forever scarred, just like the rest of my body. 

She is my polar opposite...

Her skin is perfectly smooth. Not a single scratch, not a single blemish. While my skin is covered in deep permanent scars from years of violence, injury, self-mutilation... Her face looks like it was sculpted by the gods themselves, while mine even my own mother couldn’t bare to look at. Her body looks healthy, mine is withering away, barely working. Her soul is kind and beautiful, mine is black and ugly.

She’s an angel, I am a demon...

I pull my hand away from the glass. She can’t see me, I don’t want her to see me. How would I even say hello? Did she even remember me? I hope not… Then, out of nowhere, another loud, much less melodious sounding voice broke through my thoughts. 

“Oi! Christine!” Meg’s thick, and might I add loud, cockney accent immediately caught her attention. 

“Coming!” she responded.

No, no, no, don’t go! Oh my god, please, just let me see you for a few more moments! 

“Christine...”

If it were possible I would have smacked myself in the back of the head so hard that my teeth fell out. The word just came out of my mouth involuntarily! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid fucking idiot! Why did you do that?!

I could see her body tense, and there was a dead silence.

After a few seconds of looking around in bewilderment, she spoke. “Hello? Who said that? Is someone there?”

I didn’t breathe, or move a muscle. I could feel a bead of sweat run down my forehead. 

Meg’s voice breaks the silence as she walks into the room. “Ey mate, what’s takin’ you so long?”

“I... Could have sworn I...” Christine’s head turned to look all around the room.

“Somethin’ the matter, love?” Meg asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“I just heard a voice, coming from nowhere! I could have sworn it whispered my name...” Christine looked almost dazed.

“No one’s told you yet, eh, guv?” Excitement flashed in Meg’s eyes. She always loved telling people about the supposed opera ghost. “This place is haunted! Blimey! There’s an angry spirit who lives here. Blokes spot it doin’ all sorts of things! Oi! Messin' with the bleedin' lights, slammin' doors, even shout at blokes! And he knows our names! Just last week Joseph nearly fell off the rafters when he heard somethin’ whisper his name into his ear! Things go missin' without any explanation, too. Almost everyone has had a run in with it, and if you ask me, blokes who say they haven’t are probably just lyin'.”

Christine looked around again. “A ghost huh?” she smiled. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in a haunted house!”

“Well you must be an odd one, because everyone here who will admit to seein' it is terrified of it!” Meg said to her. “Lucky for you though, I’m also an odd one. You have to tell me all about it mate! Oh, but first we have to go, me mum has been askin' for you.”

She tugged Christine by the arm in order to get going, but Christine stopped halfway through the door.

“It was lovely to meet you, ghost!” She said with a broad smile.

“Come on, mate!” Meg’s voice could be heard from the other side before she pulled her the rest of the way through.

She believes I’m a ghost like everyone else, and she’s not... afraid of me…

An idea sparked in my head. She’s not afraid of me! I could maybe use this to my advantage! Maybe, when it’s just her and no one else is around... just maybe I could try to speak with her... And, if I’m convincing enough, she may still think I’m just the local opera house ghost. She would be none the wiser! But how long could that go on? I needed to think this through a little more. This was one of my more risky ideas for sure. Nonetheless, a big, stupid grin formed across my face.

I had almost completely forgotten all the agony that went earlier on that day. My mind was filling up to it’s brim with inspiration. I needed to get it out!

I bolted back towards home, my heart and mind working together, coming up with all sorts of wild things. “I’m going to write a thousand songs for you, and paint a thousand pictures using only my finest materials! I’m going to leave you gifts!” 

At any other moment I would have been embarrassed by myself, quite honestly, but at the time I hadn’t a care in the world. I eventually ran up past Chaney. He looked at me in confusion. I stopped for a only brief moment to scoop him up in my arms. He admitted a gentle purr as I scratched him behind the ears. What a swell cat!

When I make it back home, I am greeted by the rest of the bunch. They mew and purr, seemingly not recalling the event from last night that had frightened them off. Right away, I want to work on something. I practically leap over to my organ. It had been months since I felt so inspired. Seeing my girl again had removed my artist’s block completely! I didn’t even bother to wipe the dust off of the keys before slamming down on the first note. The loud, blaring organ shook the whole room and vibrated through my entire body. It frightened a few cats off, but several stayed and yowled along. Holy shit I love music!

I had no particular song in mind; I was just going to play from the heart. Every emotion I had was going to blast out of those pipes, and I was going to play as loud and completely batshit crazy as I possibly could! But before that, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. My mirror; usually I avoid looking into it, but I had noticed something. My hair, it’s thick, wavy, and a dark chocolate brown color. Everything else about me looks frail and worn, but my hair? It actually looks healthy! I certainly needed a bit of a trim though, and I guess actually combing it once in a while wouldn’t hurt either.

Wait... Did I just find something... attractive about my appearance? It likely could have just been the adrenaline rush clouding my judgement, but for once I actually didn’t feel like complete shit when I looked at my own reflection. I don’t dwell on it for too long though, it was time for me to make some fucking noise!

I played until dawn, and would have kept playing if I hadn’t passed out from exhaustion. Christine... You came back to me. Was this a second chance? Pure coincidence? Either way, I wasn’t going to fuck this up again. I still wasn’t sure how exactly I would do it at first, but I was too happy to care at the moment. No one’s ever made me felt so joyous! So alive! So...

Human...


End file.
